


Pull Me Slowly, Strong Thumbed

by dog_loving_goth



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Explicit Consent, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, How Do I Tag, M/M, More Poetry, Post-Game, Two adult people making informed decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dog_loving_goth/pseuds/dog_loving_goth
Summary: It’s a line of poetry, and Damien knows he’s read it somewhere before, but damn it all if he can think of precisely where. Not when Hugo’s hands, rough and tender, are cupping his face and bringing him in for needy, mouth bruising kisses.





	Pull Me Slowly, Strong Thumbed

“ _I had been waiting years for you.”_  
  
It’s a line of poetry, and Damien knows he’s read it somewhere before, but damn it all if he can think of precisely _where._ Not when Hugo’s hands, rough and tender, are cupping his face and bringing him in for needy, mouth bruising kisses. They’re barely over the threshold of Damien’s front door, and something has snapped.  
  
They had taken it so slowly - careful, cautious, just wanting to savor how their relationship could blossom. But there had been the little things - a hand on the thigh; a kiss that went on far too long but stopped just short of implication; a playful flirtation; a lingering gaze - they both knew the desire was there.  
  
And now?  
  
It had just been a simple dinner.  
Wine.  
A walk on by the bay.  
  
But that was all it took.

Now Damien snaps the rubber band from Hugo’s hair and throws it to the ground, desperate to hold, to cling to something tangible because everything feels like it’s set to float away - high on the thrill of just _this_.

The door creaks as they slam against it. Damien hikes his leg up and Hugo meets him more than halfway by scooping him into strong arms. They juncture at two points of heat, a rhythmic meeting in desperation. A loosening floorboard lets out a protesting squeak, and Damien is brought back to his senses, fully flushed in embarrassment.

“ _Hugo_.” he gasps, unwilling to move the man, to force away Hugo’s head from its nestled spot in the crook of his neck or the lips on his collarbone.

But he might have to and OH how he loathes it.

“ _ **Hugo**.” _ he whispers again, and this time Hugo hears him. His head snaps up, and he is spring-loaded like a jackrabbit - ready to leap away at any given second.

“ _Do you want me to-?”  
_

“ _NO.”_ Damien utters, pressing an index finger to Hugo’s lips. He is entirely resolved that they’re only moving from this spot either in search of a bed or if…

Damien clears his throat. “Lucien!” he calls, trying to hide the roughness in his voice. He stares towards the staircase and ignores the heat emanating from Hugo’s face. They are both parents. They both know what priorities are in place. He too feels embarrassed that such intimacy could have been stumbled upon.

There is no answer. Hope rises in Damien’s chest. He calls again, “Lucien!” and this time listens for the hint of an answer. But there is no music, no sound within the house to even suggest his son is present. The coast is clear.

The mood, however, has been momentarily dampened.

Standing in silence, they are unsure how to proceed. How does one return to such such spontaneous intensity when it’s halted in its tracks? Hugo clears his throat. His thumbs idly brush against Damien’s thighs as he continues holding him up against the door. “Should I set you down?”

“My dearest Hugo. I never said I wanted to stop.” Damien tips Hugo’s head up towards him. “Do you?”

“No.” Hugo’s grin is devilish, and Damien doesn’t hesitate to kiss him for it.

They bite and mark. Hugo whines. Damien groans. Unrepentant and unresolved, their hips roll in search of friction. Each piece of clothing shed to the floor is a second closer to contact. Rough fingers search and map and _feel._ Damien peels himself out of his binder, grabs Hugo’s free hand and begs _touchpleasetouchme **yes** likethat._ Intimate words of promise whisper against skin and it is all so beautiful and metaphorical and it can only go on for so long before Damien decides he’s had **enough**.

Damien tears his mouth away from Hugo’s with a satisfying gasp and slams a frustrated fist against his front door.

“Hugo Vega, if you do not take me to bed _this instant_ , I’m throwing you out of my home!” It almost sounds like a snarl but Damien is flushed and digging needy fingers into Hugo’s shoulder, and Hugo is utterly smitten.

His hands hold firm on the backs of Damien’s thighs.

“ _That’s_ ,” he gasps, his throat dry, “without a doubt, the _hottest_ thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Hugo doesn’t run up the grand staircase with Damien in his arms, but he wants to.

They fall into Damien’s bed together, and they _laugh_ \- because Hugo could hardly turn the doorknob; because Damien had almost forgotten how to stand when Hugo put him down; because they are _together_ and it’s ridiculous how well they fit.

And then Hugo cradles Damien’s face in his hands and kisses him - slows it down until their hearts are no longer the same sort of rapid drumbeats in their ears. They kiss until Damien falls back into his linen sheets. Hugo towers over him, and Damien props himself up on one arm, cheek nuzzling against Hugo’s warm thigh, lightly thumbing the waistband of Hugo’s briefs, mouthing Hugo’s cock.

“ _Show me?”_ his voice spills into the silence of the room like dark liquid. Hugo groans softly, and obliges. Damien rolls them over, flattens Hugo to the bed and crawls between his legs.

Hugo’s head dips back. He digs the heels of his palms into his cheekbones. Damien’s mouth is wet, and warm and _practiced_ and it’s bringing out words from Hugo’s brain that he’s sure don’t make any sense out loud. But in his mind he is reciting verses from Ginsberg and Auden and they are filthy and poetic and Damien hums so very appreciatively that Hugo can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking them too.

When Damien pulls away, he leaves Hugo on the sheer brink and slides off the edge of the four-poster bed to finish undressing. Grabbing a pillow and getting to his knees, Hugo grins appreciatively. His mind is full of so many things he wants to say, but he can’t stop from smiling (and he knows it looks dopey, but there’s no one else he’d rather be here with and Hugo wonders if the words are really just that simple). Damien laughs and his heart _sings_.

He comes to Hugo, black harness half buckled, and doesn’t have to say a word. Hugo’s fingers are rough but nimble. “ _Tell me if this is too tight_.” he breathes, and kisses Damien’s jutting hipbones tenderly.

They mold together and tumble backwards into purple linen. Damien throws the condom and lube he’d retrieved towards the headboard. Their legs jut awkwardly off the bed, and they are hard and wet and all things in between, but nothing feels as right as this.

“ _Can I still fuck you?”_ Damien breathes.

Hugo exhales and spasms, a low chuckle caught in his throat because damn if he hasn’t been bested today twice now - caught off guard by how delicious it was to hear words like these from Damien’s lips. “ _Please,”_ and he is caught off guard at how needy he sounds - but it’s true. He doesn’t just want Damien - he _needs_ him. And Damien - florid, prosaic Damien - is absolutely done with preamble.

It’s a pillow and slickness; _tell me_ and a finger. And Hugo answers _yes, good, a second one;_ palms himself and _GASPS_ when Damien’s fingers crook upward ( _yesyesyes)_ and exhales a ragged moan.

When Damien slides into him, it’s slow and deliberate. Hugo is reduced to the repetition of _more please yes good_ and Damien is delighted.

They fuck -

\- and Hugo bunches the sheets in one of his fists, and with the other, grabs the hand Damien has on his hip.  

They fuck -

\- and no one knows who says it, but one of them swears loudly and together, in here, like this, they are every bit as vulgar and as perfect as the word itself.

They fuck -

\- and Hugo comes shaking. Still holding one of Damien’s hands, Hugo squeezes it when he hears Damien getting himself off and feels him release and shudder.

The room falls quiet.

Damien pulls out. Hugo rolls over. Their grins are simultaneous and split from ear to ear. “Can I help?” Hugo slides his hands to the belt buckles of the harness, and Damien nods. They are hot and sticky, covered in sweat, lube, and cum. But when Hugo crawls back into bed after sorting things into the trash versus to-wash pile, Damien pulls him in close, and they lay there, comfortable; sated.

In the middle of the night, when Damien returns from getting a glass of water - when they’ve freshened up and changed the sheets and sleep is the only craving they desire - Hugo pulls him in close and murmurs sleepily in his ear.

“ _I dreamed you were a poem. A poem I wanted to show someone…”  
_

And Damien laughs softly and puts his arms around his lover.

 

**Author's Note:**

> **notes time!!!  
> **wow, okay so if you made it all the way down here, thanks for reading! full and total disclosure - i am a cis queer person, but i really tried as absolutely hard as i could to do this NSFW request as much justice as possible. i hope i - at the very least- managed to get it in the ballpark of plausibility  
> **so this is a combination of two requests i got in my tumblr inbox. they asked for some similar stuff so i went ahead and wrote something super long and hopefully they're both happy with it  
> **there are several 20th century queer, erotic, and very very very very NSFW poems referenced here.  
> Twenty One Love Poems - Adrienne Rich  
> Please Master - Allen Ginsberg (Oh my god this one is so dirty)  
> The Platonic Blow - W.H. Auden
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you like my work, consider [buying me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/dgwritesfic) or follow me [on tumblr](http://dog-loving-goth.tumblr.com/) and say hi!


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